"What's the matter?"
"She Codago's wife," softly replied a Mexican. "They fight in Chihuahua—he run away—she follow. She come here now—this minute—she fall on Codago—she say something, we know not—he scream an' run."
"He's a low-lived scoundrel!" said Chagres Charley, between his teeth. "Ef my wife thort enough of me to follow me to the diggin's, I wouldn't do much runnin' away. He's a reg'lar black-hearted, white-livered—"
"Sh—h—h!" whispered Nappy, the Frenchman. "The lady is recovering, and she may have a heart."
"Maria, Madre purissima!" low wailed the woman. "Mi nino—mi nino perdido!"
"What's she a-sayin'?" asked Lynn Taps, in a whisper.
"She talk about little boy lost," said the Mexican.
"An' her husband gone, too, poor woman!" said Chagres Charley, in the most sympathizing tones ever heard at Flatfoot Bar. "But a doctor'd be more good to her jes' now than forty sich husbands as her'n. Where's the nearest doctor, fellers?" continued Chagres Charley.
"Up to Dutch Hill," said Texas; "an' I'll see he's fetched inside of two hours."
Saying which, Texas dropped the raw-hide door, and hurried off.